


Why Do You Rattle My Chain?

by Vague_Shadows



Series: The Family Business [2]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angst, Arguing, Derek POV, Full Moon Mood Swings, Gen, Issues with communication, Pack Dynamics, Stiles POV, slow build to Sterek within series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-16
Updated: 2012-12-19
Packaged: 2017-11-21 06:24:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,137
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/594485
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vague_Shadows/pseuds/Vague_Shadows
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stile and Derek have been through a lot together, but they've still only been alpha/second a few months or so. They've got the pack figured out and the house finished, but figuring out exactly how the hell they’re going to work together and communicate still seems to be an infuriating repetition of two steps forward, one step back.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Title inspired by the song "Rattle My Chain" by The Basics. 
> 
> I found the song because of this fanmix: http://8tracks.com/adivinecomedy/oh-i-don-t-know-i-think-you-two-make-a-pretty-good-pair
> 
> I'm actually sort of using this playlist as my outline for the Sterek build over the next couple parts.

Stiles is finally walking without a limp in the same week they’re officially done with the house.  Pack dinner gets upgraded to a full feast of a cookout.  Everyone’s there, including his dad and Ms. McCall, who’s getting more and more comfortable with the idea of the pack.  She’s sitting at the end of the table with his dad, the two outsiders in a group of raucous kids.  He’s glad they’ve got each other. 

After dessert, they end up playing a pickup game of lacrosse in the back yard.  The wolves take it easy on Stiles, both because he’s human and because he’s still mending.  Nevertheless, his leg is still aching much later that night when he’s trying to sleep in his room; it doesn’t help any that the room feels weird because it’s supposed to be his but it doesn’t smell or feel quite like _his_ yet.  He gives up on sleep after a while and goes down to the kitchen, hoping to find some of the Oreos and milk Derek tends to keep around. 

His search is fruitful, and he’s in the middle of drowning his fourth cookie when he realizes Derek’s standing in the kitchen doorway.

Stiles startles, then scowls. “You’d think with my new wolfpower upgrade you wouldn’t still be able to sneak up on me like that.”

Derek shrugs.  “I’m still the alpha; it’s no contest,” he replies with a cocky smirk.

Stiles will never stop being amazed at just how much more Derek smiles these days. Granted, it’s mostly in line with him making jabs at the betas, but it’s an improvement from the gloomy glare.

“So why are you up, _Alpha_?”

“I was going to ask you the same thing.  Don’t you ever sleep?”

“Just thought I could go for a midnight snack; that’s all.”

Derek sighs.  “I can hear the lie in your heartbeat, you idiot.” He studies Stiles for a second.  “Your leg hurts?” he guesses correctly.

“It’s not that bad.”

It’s the truth; there’s no lie to be heard in the statement.  Nevertheless, Derek comes to sit next to him at the table and places a hand on Stiles shoulder. 

“Thanks,” he tells Derek as he feels the pain ebb.  “You know if you guys keep this up, I’m going to get addicted.” Derek just shrugs and uses his free hand to slide the Oreos closer and grab one for himself. 

In the days following the attack, it was an unspoken understanding that whichever wolf was nearest Stiles would sit with a hand on his shoulder, leeching his pain.  Stiles had protested, but Derek and Scott had insisted, claiming it was an important skill for them to practice anyway.  The wolves seemed to do it without thinking now, always assuming there’s at least a little ache still lingering.

“I still can’t believe this place is finally finished,” Stiles says, gesturing vaguely to the house.  _Especially given that six months ago we all hated each other and I was half-hoping Scott would just let you die of that wolfsbane bullet._ “It’s good.”  He looks around the kitchen, taking it all in.  “You know what they say about feeding strays though, they’ll keep coming back.  You fed us and built a house and then gave us our own rooms. There’s no way in hell you’re getting rid of us now.”

Derek finishes his cookie and gives another shrug.  “That’s kind of the idea, genius.”

Stiles can’t help smiling.  There’s a bit of awkward silence between them—well, awkward for Stiles; Derek it seems couldn’t give a fuck less—and Stiles grabs another cookie to fill the space. These moments have been happening a lot more in the past couple months.  Derek’s not opening up exactly, but he’s not just glaring all the time either.  He’s gradually becoming less terse and more—Stiles might not go right to the word conversational—suffice to say Derek is using more words than necessary when he talks to people, and Stiles is counting it as a win on the whole.  Hopefully Derek is going to hit some level of consistently pleasant social interaction one day, but, in the meantime, there’s the weird transition period full of silences like the current one Stiles is trying to ignore. 

“Has Isaac talked to you?” he asks to break the quiet.

“About what?”

“If his emancipation goes through, he was wondering if you’d let him move in,” Stiles replies.

“He hasn’t said anything about it.”

“Well he talks to Scott, and Scott talks to me and, apparently, I talk to you, so now you know.”  It’s the way a lot of their conversations go these days. Topics trickle through the pack, and Stiles ends up the one to mention them to Derek.  Everything from training ideas to what kind of pizza should be ordered for dinner.

Stiles tries to interpret Derek’s reaction to the proposition, but discerns nothing beyond the fact that Derek isn’t _totally_ pissed off by the idea.  “Would you let him?”

“Sure.”

“You should mention it to him,” Stiles suggests.

Stiles thinks Isaac moving in might be good for both Isaac and Derek.  The Kincaids’ place has never really seemed to feel like home to Isaac—Stiles has been over there; Isaac hasn’t even fully unpacked into his room—and Derek wouldn’t be the only regular tenant of this huge house.  Maybe it’s not a burnt out husk anymore, but being out here alone can’t exactly be awesome.  It’s got to be better having nights like tonight with the pack around.

 “Is it weird having a pack house again?” Stiles asks, the question out of his mouth before he can reign it in.  “Sorry, never mind.”

“It’s good,” Derek says, reaching for another cookie.  He doesn’t expound, but it’s a verbal answer at least.

“Cool,” Stiles replies lamely, not really sure what else to say. 

Derek saves him from another awkward silence by saying. “Tomorrow you should find out what’s wrong with Jackson.”

“What?” Stiles asks, thrown by the sudden change in topic.

“Something’s wrong with Jackson.  Talk to him.”

Stiles lets out an exasperated sigh at Derek’s inability to fully explain _anything_ the first time he’s asked.

“What?” Derek asks with an annoyed look.

“I need more information here, dude. What the hell are you even talking about?”

"Something’s—”

“Wrong with Jackson,” Stiles finishes. “Yeah, got that part. What exactly?”

“If I knew what was wrong, I wouldn’t tell you to find out.”

“I mean—something’s wrong like he’s fighting with Lydia? Or grades? Or Lacrosse? Or he’s got that look on his face like he plans to strangle everyone within reach—because that one’s pretty permanent—”

“ _Stiles…”_

“What? You’ve got to give me something work with if you expect me to talk to him.”

“I don’t _know_ what’s wrong with him.”

“Okay, well, _how_ do you know something’s wrong with him?”

Derek’s silent.

“If you say it’s some kind of Alpha spidey sense, then—”

“He hasn’t been up to his usual standards in training.  He’s lost some of his edge.  He barely ate anything at dinner tonight,” Derek replies, “and he just looks—kinda mopey.”

Stiles bites back a jab at the fact that Derek just used the phrase “looks kinda mopey”.

“You’re right; pretty general signs.  Why don’t you talk to him?”

“I tried. He doesn’t—”

“You _tried_? Already? You talked to him?”

"Yes, after dinner, and he wouldn’t say anything, so now you need to—”

“Wait a minute.  You, Derek Sourwolf Hale, attempted to figure out if Jackson’s upset about something?”

“Stop that,” Derek commands irritably.

“Stop what?”

“Every time I try and do something like this you get that stupid surprised sound in your voice, and it’s really fucking annoying.  We both know the pack is my anchor—same as yours—so stop pretending to be so damn surprised I care. It’s not funny anymore.”

Stiles is totally speechless for a few moments, mouth gaping open, because not only has Derek just spouted an impressive amount of conversation, he’s also got a point.

“Sorry, Derek,” he says, thoroughly chastised.  “I didn’t mean—I mean of course we know you care. You’re just usually busy being the tough guy and—”

“In case it hasn’t occurred to you, I _have_ to be the tough guy.  I’m the alpha. It’s my responsibility. If I don’t teach you how to defend yourselves, you’re going to get yourselves killed.  We can’t let our guard down just because there’s no imminent threat.  The pack is nowhere near as strong as it needs to be; you all have to get better, and whatever is going on with Jackson is making him worse.  He needs a clear head for training and for the sake of control—in case you’ve forgotten the full moon’s on two days—If he’s not going to tell me what the hell his problem is, you’re going to have to figure it out. You’re the second. It’s your job to help me keep them safe. Do you get that? Because I don’t have time to convince you to do things every time I ask you to help.”

“Yeah, I totally get it. I’m—”

“Good. Let me know what you find out.”

“Yeah, okay,” Stiles replies, still a bit dumbfounded as his mind continues to process everything Derek just said.

_We both know the pack is my anchor…I have to be the tough guy…You’re the Second. It’s your job to help me keep them safe…_

So there it is, spelled out completely, and Stiles should have seen it a long time ago.  Derek’s big fear: that a failure on his part to be a good alpha was going to cost him his pack. 

Stiles gets the feeling that Derek blames himself for what happened to his family all those years ago, though Stiles still doesn’t understand _why_.  He supposes it’s survivor’s guilt.  That’s what the shrink called his problem after his mom died. Stiles had been wrecked—hell, still is wrecked—after losing one person; Derek lost _everyone._ At the end of the day, if the pack fell apart, Stiles would still have his dad.  The others all have someone, too.  But for Derek, the pack is it.  Of course he’s afraid to lose it.  Stiles is usually pretty good at reading people and spotting the big issues, but it’s really difficult to look at Derek Hale and see anything even remotely resembling vulnerability.  Still, the things that effect Derek effect the whole pack more than anyone else’s emotions can. If Stiles is going to be the Hale Pack Second, he’s got to start paying attention to _all_ of them, big tough Alpha included; this kind of stuff can’t fall through the cracks.

_And award for shittiest Second in the history of werewolves goes to…_

“ _Stiles_?” Derek says, and from the tone of his voice it’s not the first time he’s said his name. 

“Huh?”

“I said is your leg okay for now?”

 “Oh. Yeah, it’s good. Thanks.”

Derek doesn’t reply; he just grabs another cookie as he heads off in the direction of his room, leaving Stiles alone at the table to try and sort through the conversation that just happened.


	2. Chapter 2

Stiles’ phone rings, and it’s Jackson’s name on the caller ID.  He hopes Jackson’s rethought his statement from earlier this morning that even _if_ there was something wrong, Stiles is the _last fucking person on this earth_ that he would talk to about it.  Otherwise Jackson would only call because he’s dying or something.  Stiles grabs his keys as he answers the phone just in case it’s the latter.

“Jackson?”

“Do you wish you didn’t know about werewolves?”

“What?”

“ _Do you wish_ —” Jackson repeats, enunciating each word with an air of annoyance.

“Dude, I heard you.  Why are you asking me that?”

“Just answer the question.”

Stiles runs through a mental list of reasons Jackson would give a shit about how Stiles feels about being included in werewolf shenanigans.  It’s not hard to come to a conclusion.

“You’re thinking of telling Danny?”

“Would you just answer the question?”

“It depends on the day, dude.  Things are great ‘til they’re not.  There’s no point wondering what it’d be like if I didn’t know because I do know. No going back now.”

“Well that’s a crystal clear answer, thanks,” Jackson says sardonically. 

“Did you ask Lydia?”

“Not yet.”

“She’s probably a better gauge for this scenario.”

“Yeah, but I know what she’s going to say.”

“Which is what?”

“We kept her in the dark about all this shit, and then she spent weeks thinking she was crazy as hell before helping resurrect the werewolf that nearly mauled her to death.  Keeping her out of the loop didn’t exactly improve her quality of life, you moron.”

“Sounds to me like you have an answer then,” Stiles says.  “I’m not sorry I told my dad if that’s any help to you.  It really comes down to whether or not you think he can handle knowing.  If you don’t tell him and you still plan to stay friends with him—which honestly you should because he’s been dealing with your bullshit since—”

“Stiles—”

“Okay, you get the point.  If you’re going to be around him and not tell him the truth, you still need to keep an eye on him just in case. The danger’s going to come regardless if he’s close to the pack.”  There’s no reply from the other end of the phone.  “Jackson?”

“Tell Derek I’m telling Danny.”

“Whoa, why do _I_ have to talk to Derek about it? Also, you should probably at least pretend to wait for his permission so you don’t end up running laps until the end of time or whatever else the pack equivalent of getting grounded is.”

“So convince him I should tell Danny.”

“Again, why is that _my_ job?”

“You’re the second.”

“That’s only a good argument when I use it in my favor. It doesn’t mean you get to throw me under the bus.”

“Would you just do it, Stiles?” and there’s a little hint of pleading under the demand.

Stiles sighs.  _I’m such a sucker._ “Yeah, okay.”

"Good.”

“You’re welcome,” he adds to remind Jackson he should muster up some gratitude; Jackson doesn’t reply, just hangs up.

 

**********************************************************************************************************************************************************************

 

“He talked to you?” Derek guesses as he answers Stiles' call.

“Hello to you too,” Stiles replies.

_Why can’t you ever just run with it and jump to the point of the conversation?_

_"_ Stiles—”

“Okay, yes. He just called me. He’s thinking about telling Danny the truth about what’s been going on.”

“Absolutely not,” Derek responds immediately.

“Dude, you answered before I even finished the sentence. At least pretend to think about it.”

"It’s safer for him not to know.”

“Not so sure that’s true.”

“Oh really?” Derek scoffs. “How long have you been living with the supernatural? Eight months? Nine? I’ve been hiding what I am my _entire_ life, Stiles.  You can’t just tell everyone you want.  It’s too dangerous for the pack and for the human you tell.”

_You can’t just trust whoever you want. You have to be careful._

“Like it was too dangerous to tell Lydia?” Stiles asks.  “Because clearly we were all safer with her assuming she was just nuts and quietly going through the motions of resurrecting your dead uncle who could have been—and may still be—a huge threat to the pack.”

Point taken, but “That was an unusual case,” Derek insists.

“I think you should let him tell Danny if he wants to.”

“Yes, thank you for your input,” Derek says sardonically.

“I’m the second; I get to have input now, remember?”

“Stop using your rank as an excuse to argue with me about _everything_ ,” Derek orders.  Because it’s stiles go-to defense for every argument from training tactics to what type of pizza gets ordered for dinner, and it’s getting a little old.

“Never,” Stiles replies, and Derek can hear the smile in Stiles’ words.  “Besides, it was my job to bug you way before I became second, _and_ you know I’ve got a point.”

“It’s not that simple.”

_Nothing is ever that simple._

“I kinda think it is, dude.  Besides, Jackson may be able to play it off now, but once school starts back in a couple weeks Danny’s going to be suspicious.”

“If he didn’t put together that Jackson was tuning into a fucking kamina and killing people in cold blood, I somehow doubt he’ll figure out that fully controlled Jackson is a werewolf.”

“I’m just saying he’s not going to leave it alone.”

“Pack is need-to-know, Stiles, and this kid doesn’t need to know.”

“He could be useful.”

“No.”

“He’s put up with Jackson’s shit for years. He deserves to—”

“No, Stiles.”

“Pack vote?” Stiles suggests.

"This isn’t a democracy.”

“ _Come on_.”

"Exactly which part of ‘no’ is unclear?”

“You are so fucking stubborn I could—”

“What?” Derek demands, smirking even though Stiles can’t actually see him.  “What’re you going to do, Stiles?”

“God, I fucking hate you.  You are such an asshole, Derek.  Just let him tell—”

“No.”

“You let me tell my dad.”

“It’s different.”

“Why?”

“He’s your family.” _Your only family._

“Danny’s his friend.  He should know if Jackson wants him to.”

“The answer is no, Stiles,” Derek says with finality.  “I’ll see you at training. Don’t be late.”

He hangs up the phone before Stiles can argue further. There are already three non-pack humans inaddition to the hunters who know more than Derek would like about the pack—a pack that hasn’t even been around for a full six months.  Jackson will get over it; Derek made this same argument to his parents a million times growing up, and they had been right to teach him not to tell every person he got close to.  The less people know, the safer the pack is, and that’s all there is to it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so yes we're digressing from the nice, relatively mature and rational conversation they had last chapter...but this is Sterek. It's a two steps forward on step back kind of relationship in my opinion. Just hang with me :)


	3. Chapter 3

Stiles has his father invite everyone over for dinner so that Jackson can invite Danny over too.  Danny seems a little confused as to when the hell this group started becoming the people Jackson _chooses_ to hang out with, but, as usual, he’s pretty chill about it. He keeps a smile on his face and he’s being nice to everyone-which honestly not even the members of the pack are always nice to each other, so Danny’s ahead of the curve so far. It doesn’t take too long before Danny’s loosened up a little more, and there’s an easy air in the room as they all trade off turns playing Black Ops II, including Lydia who rises to the challenge spectacularly the minute Jackson suggests she might not be able to play just as well as the boys.

Stiles hears Derek’s car pull up outside and assumes it might be best to meet him on the porch.  Stiles opens the door and is met with a furious glare from the alpha.

“Is that who I think it is?” he asks, nodding to where Danny’s car is parked in the drive.

“If you think it’s Danny, then yes.”

“Stiles, I told you—”

“I know what you told me.  We haven’t told him anything about the pack. He’s just hanging out with us. It’s not pack dinner or training. I can invite whoever I want to,” Stiles replies as he steps outside and closes the door behind him.  “So you should feel honored you’re still included,” he adds with a smirk to lighten the moment because Derek’s gaze hasn’t softened in the slightest. 

“ _Stiles…”_

“What dude? He’s playing video games with us.  That’s it.”

“Lie,” Derek calls. _Fucking werewolf hearing. Again._

“Okay, hanging out is mostly it, but we could also call it his first interview?”

"What the hell are you talking about Stiles?” 

“Your family had humans right? I’m in the pack.  We’re not talking about just telling Danny for the sake of telling him.  We’re talking about actually recruiting him as pack.”

"You can’t just recruit all your friends to be pack.”

“You’re always talking about making the pack stronger.  Why not let him join if he wants to _and_ he gets along with everybody?”

“And if he doesn’t want to? If he freaks out and then he refuses to be around any of you and he tells other people about us—what then?”

“Then—then—look, it doesn’t matter what then because he’s not going to freak out or tell people.”

“You barely know him.”

“I know enough. I’ve had classes with him for years.  We play lacrosse together.  He’s a good guy.”

“That’s not enough to justify taking an unnecessary risk. You have a responsibility to help me protect the pack.”

“I know that. I also have a responsibility help you think about what’s best for the people in the pack. .  I know you want to play it safe, but I don’t see how having Danny on board will do anything but help.”

“You don’t know that he’ll agree!” Derek reminds him again, clearly exasperated.  “You can’t always get what you want Stiles. Things don’t always work out because you think they should. Sometimes you have to live with secrets and you have to exclude people and you just have to deal with it because pack is more important than anything else.”

“This isn’t about _me_ getting what _I_ want! _Jackson_ ’s the one who’s worrying about it. _You’re_ the one who told me to help you figure out what it was and fix it!”

“The fact that dumb luck is generally on your side doesn’t mean that you get to start making decisions for the whole pack based on your general hope that it’ll all work out. I didn’t mean for you to figure it out and immediately jump into one of your half-baked fix-it plans.”

“Half-baked plans?” Stiles repeats, genuine anger rising in him.   

They’re not just arguing about Danny’s reliability anymore; Derek just took it to a whole new level of personal.  Stiles narrows his eyes.

“So every fight I’ve helped any of you win was just the dumb luck, huh? Well, it’s funny how my dumb luck and half-baked plans have been the thing that saved your ungrateful ass on _multiple_ occasions,” he reminds Derek with venom in his voice.   “You’d think by now my plans would be a little more trusted; I guess I’ll just have to wait for the next batch of alphas to roll through and _force_ you to trust me before we can resume this conversation.”   

Derek’s glare softens just slightly.  “Stiles, I’m just saying—”

“Oh, I heard you,” Stiles cuts him off. “Loud and clear—responsibility to protect the pack by always assuming the worst about people.  Can’t always get what I want. Owe our lives to dumb luck and nothing to do with my apparently shitty plans—that hits the highlights, right? Glad we cleared up just how valuable I am as second.”

“That’s not what—”

Stiles is barely keeping his balled up fists restrained to his sides.  There’s a rational back corner of his mind reminding him that the full moon is tomorrow, and it’s not the best time to be having a discussion like this.  The much more prominent portion of his mind is screaming for him to just punch Derek in the jaw and get this fight going.

But they’re in plain view of the neighbors, and there’s a non-pack human inside so Stiles opts for retreat instead.  He turns, and Derek moves to stop him, but Stiles has already begun manipulating the small bit of mountain ash kept in a nondescript flowerpot by the door; it now forms a thin, neat line between them. Derek growls, and his eyes flash red.

“That’s not funny.”

“I’m not laughing,” Stiles replies, as he walks in the house. 

“Break the line,” Derek demands in the alpha tone.

“No.”

 

*******************************************************************************************************************************************************************

 

Derek seriously considers for a moment going to the back of the house or one of the windows; the line is just Stiles proving a point.  He wouldn’t actually barricade Derek out of the whole house (probably).  Two things keep Derek from going in search of another way in: the nosey neighbor two doors down is always watching and Danny’s inside with a pack that’s a little lacking in control this lunar cycle and wouldn’t respond well to the alpha losing it; hitting alpha mode right now is—annoyingly—not an option.

He glares down at the line of mountain ash for a few moments more.  He resists the urge to kick at it, knowing the line would remain unchanged and piss him off even more. Stiles has been getting better and better at manipulating the ash, barely hindered by the fact that he himself is now slightly supernatural in nature.  Behind the barricade line, a bit more of the ash is arranging itself to spell out “fuck off” in big block letters.

Derek reigns in the shift. It’s a lot harder than it should be—he’s faced down four rival alphas without shifting for chrissake—but Stiles has a way of getting under Derek’s skin like no one else does, especially these days.  The more time they spend together, the easier it is to press one another’s buttons; it’s the definite downside to all the time the pack’s been spending together lately as they finished the house.

Derek glowers at the offending words a few moments longer and then turns to go back to his car, his restrained anger still simmering under the surface.  Maybe now isn’t the time to act on anything, but, next time they train, he’s going to teach Stiles a lesson or two on respecting the alpha. 

 _You let me know how that works out,_ Laura teases.  _Cause those kind of lessons sure never worked on you. This is totally pack back for all that shit you used to give me._

 _Shut up.  Nobody asked you,_ he snaps at her as he slams the car door too hard and put the keys in the ignition, gunning the engine as he heads home.

           

 

 


	4. Chapter 4

“Morning,” Isaac says with a smile when Derek comes into the kitchen the morning following the full moon.  “That wasn’t so bad, huh? I kind figured with all of us stressed lately someone was bound to get a little out of hand, but no problems with us,  Scott just texted to say he and Stiles are good.”

“Jackson and Lydia are fine,” Derek adds because it was Lydia’s text that had woken him a few minutes ago.  “Everyone’s fine.” _Even though the pack bond is still thrumming unpleasantly with general tension._

Derek pours himself a cup of coffee and joins Isaac at the table where the younger wolf is finishing a bowl of cereal.  They’re quiet a while, as they usually are, but eventually Isaac breaks the silence.

“Now that you’re a little less supernaturally inclined to fight anything with a heartbeat, you should talk to Stiles,” Isaac suggests.

“There’s nothing to talk about. I told him no, and he didn’t like it so he went behind my back and brought Danny into—”

“It wasn’t behind your back, and it wasn’t pack business.  It was—” Isaac pauses to search for the right phrase, “an unofficial free trial, and he was trying to make Jackson feel like it was at least getting considered.”

_Sure, take Stiles’ side. Why not? All of you do._

“He should’ve talked to me first.”

“Yeah, well, you two will always have room for improvement in the communication department, but he is the best at successfully arguing with you.”

_Successfully arguing? What does that even mean?_

“It shouldn’t always be an argument. Sometimes he needs to trust my judgment as alpha and stop pushing it.”

“Trust your judgment?” Isaac repeats. “Kind of like you trust his judgment so much?”

“In case you’ve forgotten, I’m the fucking alpha! Trusting my judgment is part of being in the pack.”

“And in case _you’ve_ forgotten, the last time you tried to run things on nothing but your unyielding alpha authority, we lost Erica and Boyd.  You need a strong second. Stiles keeps you in check—makes you reconsider things. It makes the pack better.”

It’s true, and Derek knows it.  Stiles’ ability to challenge him is what makes Stiles a good second; infuriatingly, it’s also what makes Derek want to strangle Stiles half the time.

“I’ll talk to him,” Derek concedes, “but I’m not promising anything. I still don’t like this idea.”

“I really don’t get why not. I mean you just picked me and Erica and Boyd. Why not let Danny—”

“I didn’t ‘just pick’,” Derek protests, thoroughly offended Isaac would think that.  “The bite is a gift. You don’t just pick random people.”

“So why us?”

“You all _needed_ a pack; you needed people to have your back.”

“And Danny doesn’t? You wouldn’t even know Derek because you don’t know him.”

“So you want him in the pack too?”

“He’s a good guy, okay? He tries to help people.” 

"Tries to help people? With what?”

Isaac rubs the back of his neck, a nervous tick he has.  “He—he, um—he tried to help me with the stuff with my dad once.  He was over at Jackson’s, and they heard us fighting I guess. When he saw a couple of bruises at practice the next day, he asked if I needed help. I told him no, and he didn’t ask any more after that. Still, it was more than anybody else ever did.” 

It’s a damn good argument for letting Danny in the pack, and he wishes he’d known this story beforehand.   Giving Danny a shot now is just going to look like he’s letting Stiles win. Again.  He gives in to Stiles’ input enough during everyday pack stuff. This is the first big decision they’ve had to make, and Derek isn’t eager to set some sort of precedence that Stiles’ opinion carries more weight that Derek’s.

 _You’re keeping score against a teenager? Really?_ Laura scoffs. _Grow up._

Isaac’s words sink in fully. _He was over at Jackson’s and heard the fighting_ …which means Jackson was probably there and probably heard too.  Actually he _definitely_ heard it at some point.  He’s the one who gave a statement against Isaac when Mr. Lahey was killed.  Derek’s never stopped to wonder if Jackson witnessing the fighting was more than a one-time thing. 

“More than Jackson ever did?” Derek asks. 

Isaac huffs a laugh and gives him a wry smile.  “Funny how being turned into a homicidal lizard monster for a while can make you a better person—I think he got more than what he had coming to him—he can still be an asshole, but he’s pack and he’s a little better now and he’s got his own shit to deal with. No point in staying pissed.  Keeping the anger would weaken the pack bonds; it’s not worth it.”

“That’s good,” Derek says. 

            There’s a quiet resilience in Isaac that will always impress Derek.  On good days, it’s easy to forget what the kid lived through.  It’s easy to forget how he loved the power the bite gave him too much at first. It’s easy to just focus on the current version of Isaac, who chose to stay when the others left, who trusts his packmates, whose stability and loyalty give a lot to the bonds of the pack.  Derek chose Isaac because Isaac was alone and knew what it was like to live in fear—like Derek had lived in those days just after losing Laura.   Of all the betas, it’s Isaac that Derek relates with most; and Derek can’t help letting Isaac’s endorsement of Danny carry a lot of weight in his mind.

“So yeah,” Isaac says, rising to go pour himself another bowl of cereal.  “You should think about that whole Danny thing and talking to Stiles and all.”

“I’ll talk to him tomorrow at training.”

The sound of Stiles’ Jeep coming down the drive reaches them.      

“I might’ve told Scott to go ahead and convince him to come over,” Isaac says, and Derek glares at him. “What? It stresses us out when you two fight. It makes the pack bond all tense and stuff.”

“You and Scott and your damn obsession with managing the pack bond…” Derek mutters.

It’s great that both Isaac and Scott feel the pack bond so acutely, except when it drives them to an incessant need to immediately fix any issues that make the bond “wonky” as Scott terms it.   It reminds Derek too much of his grandmother forcing him in a room with whichever sibling he was fighting with and insisting they work out their differences and apologize and hug—not that he’s hugging Stiles. _Ever._

*******************************************************************************************************************************************************

 

“What exactly are you expecting to happen, dude?” Stiles demands as they traverse the drive to the pack house.  “You think Derek’s going to apologize and we’ll just all sing Kum Ba Ya and then we’ll call Danny up to come join in the niceties?”

“You could sing Lean On Me or something if you’d rather.”

“Ha ha,” Stiles snaps back.

“Just give it a shot. Maybe he won’t be so bad.”

“Since when are _you_ the one convincing me he’s not so bad?”

“Since you’re apparently giving up on it.  Come on, you know how much it sucks for me and Isaac when you two fuck with the pack mojo.  You promised you’d try.”

“You know, you can’t just guilt trip me into everything and call it a day. You’re still going to owe me.”

_You and Isaac and your goddamn puppydog pleas owe me because Derek is being an asshole._

And what Stiles doesn’t understand is how they always manage to take two steps forward and one step back.  Just when he thinks they’re hitting a rhythm with the alpha/second dynamic—like the other night after pack dinner when he asked Stiles to check on Jackson—Derek pulls something like this; he reminds Stiles that he doesn’t trust him with the pack. 

_If I don’t care about protecting the pack, if I’m not always thinking about the whole, then why the hell do you think I rushed into a room of fighting betas to take charge? Why’d I hold that line against the alphas when I was sitting there bleeding to death? Why’m I here early for every training session to go over ideas with Derek and busting my ass practicing my magic?_

He doesn’t know what else to do to prove to Derek that he’s serious about this, that he can be trusted, and that disagreeing with the alpha doesn’t mean his plans are automatically dangerous or half-baked.

“Dude, I can practically hear the gears turning in your head,” Scott says.  “What’re you thinking about?”

“I just—I wish he’d quit treating me like some irresponsible kid,” Stiles replies.  “That’s the main thing.  If he doesn’t want to do things my way, he’s the alpha so I guess that’s his call.  He’s just _got_ to stop being so goddamned high and mighty about everything like I don’t put thought into any of it.”

“It’s Derek,” Scott says with a shrug as though it explains the whole issue.

“Yeah, well, it’s fucking annoying, and it’s getting really old.”

********************************************************************************************************************************************************************

 

“So—uh—I think me and Scott are going to go for a run,” Isaac says the moment the four of them are all standing awkwardly in the kitchen.  “Scott?”

“Yeah,” Scott agrees, looking relieved to dodge the tension in the room.  “Don’t kill each other while we’re gone.”

“No promises,” Stiles replies drolly.

They’re out the back door with barely a glance back, leaving Stiles and Derek standing alone.

“Okay, so they’re determined to get us talking again; we actually going to talk? Or should we start with the shouting again and work our way down?” Stiles asks because it’s almost impossible to refrain from starting all daunting situations and conversations with a smartass comment.

Derek sighs.  “You knew inviting Danny over would bug me and you didn’t say anything. You shouldn’t have handled it that way,” Derek replies.  “ _But_ ,” he adds quickly when Stiles opens his mouth to argue, “I probably jumped the gun when I vetoed Danny so fast.”

“ _Probably_?” Derek glares in response.  “Okay, okay. Closest I’m going to get to you admitting you were wrong; I’ll take it.  Honestly, I wasn’t even expecting you to admit you jumped the gun.”

It bothers Derek that Stiles gives him no credit on communication.  He’s not an idiot; he knows he’s not perfect, but he’s getting there. For the past six years he’s been close to a grand total of _one_ person, and he and Laura had the communication down to an art.  It didn’t need this ridiculous amount of work.  He still hears her voice in the back of his head commenting on everything his does; he doesn’t even have to try.

“Danny can hang around with the pack for the next week or so, and if he gets along with everyone, we’ll talk about offering him a spot in the pack,” Derek suggest, moving past Stiles’ comment to continue on the topic at hand.

It’s clear Stiles is biting back a gloating, smartass reply regarding his assumed victory in the argument. All he says aloud is, “Fair enough I guess.”

"So are we good here?”

“Yeah.”

“Lie,” Derek calls.

“Fucking werewolf hearing,” Stiles mutters.

“You can do the same thing.”

"Yeah, but I _don’t_ ,” Stiles replies.  “Generally if you want to lie or tell a half truth or whatever I let you do it.”

“I don’t lie as often as you.”

“Now _that_ is definitely a lie whether you realize it or not.”

“We’re not talking about me. Why did you lie? What else are you pissed about? I’m giving Danny a shot.”

Stiles gives him just a glare in response, which is fair because Derek’s pretty sure he already knows the answer to his question.

“The calling your plans half-baked or whatever?” Stiles nods. “Stiles, your plans _are_ half-baked most of the time.”

“Anyone ever tell you how much you _suck_ at apologies?”

“Who said this was an apology? It’s just—we’re just setting the record straight here.”

“Setting the record straight? Okay, sure. So we’ve established that you rushed to decision about Danny and decided the plan for that.  Anything else you’d like to set the record straight for?”

“I meant it—a lot of your plans are half-baked, but I didn’t mean for you to take it the way you did with the whole me-not-trusting-your-plans or whatever.”

“Then how the hell was I supposed to take it?”

“I just meant that we can’t always go off the first plan you throw together as you go.  When we’ve got time to think it out, we should, and you should understand that.  You should discuss pack business with me instead of suddenly going off in your own direction.”

“Well, then maybe you should make talking it out more of a viable option instead of constantly shutting me down just because you always want to get your way.  Your immediate reaction to everything is always no—even if we end up agreeing, you always start off by shooting it down and I end up on the defensive from the very beginning. There’s practically no point in bothering to ask; it’s just a matter of starting the argument sooner or later because you act like a fucking petulant five-year-old.”

“Yeah, well back at you!  You hate losing an argument just as much as I do, and you’re just as bad at insisting you get your own way _and_ you get the other betas on your side until you get what you want! You’re _the_ most frustrating second I’ve ever seen!”

“And it’s a good thing too because you’re the most infuriatingly stubborn alpha _I’ve_ ever seen!”

“So essentially you deserve each other,” Isaac’s voice breaks in as he appears in the doorway; it would appear that ‘go for a run’ actually meant ‘eavesdrop from the back porch.’ 

Derek and Stiles turn their heads in unison to look over to where Isaac’s standing.  Derek realizes that he and Stiles are only a few inches apart, yelling in each other’s face.  He almost takes a step back from Stiles, but he’s not going to show any sign of retreat.  He turns back to Stiles, ready to continue the argument, but Isaac’s interjection has effectively broken the building tension; Stiles’ eyes are laughing, making Derek’s glare soften.

“Yeah, apparently, we do,” Stiles agrees with a short laugh. 

 _All our conversations are arguments…we speak in insults and death threats…we’re the worst possible second/alpha duo in the history of ever,_ Derek recalls from their conversation in the hospital months ago.

Except that despite all the arguing, the end result is usually something that strengthens the pack.  They’re not the worst pair among the pack for this; they might even be the best.  Stiles is annoyingly good at keeping Derek’s quick judgment and resistance to change in check.  Not that Derek will ever, _ever_ admit that out loud.

“You realize we were almost good there for a second and then we veered back into argument territory?” Stiles asks.

Derek shrugs; it’s what they do.  “We good or what?” he asks, because that’s the real question.

“Yeah, we’re good,” Stiles replies.  “For now.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like I maybe need to add a small disclaimer in here? (thanks to the comments that drew it to my attention!) This isn't the total resolution of the Stiles/Derek argument. We've got some more talking-about-feelings stuff in the next chapter. It's just that I didn't want them to go from pissed as hell to heartfelt confessions in one conversation. I didn't feel like that was realistic based on the idea of the Stiles/Derek duo I have in my head.
> 
> My headcanon Derek & Stiles are slow at fully talking about things at this point; they've been through a lot together, but they've still only been alpha/second a few months or so. They've got the pack figured out and the house finished, etc, but figuring out exactly how they work/communicate as a team is still very much a work in progress.
> 
> \--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
> 
>  
> 
> Thanks to those who've commented :) I really appreciate the feedback!


	5. Chapter 5

“So tomorrow’s a week,” Jackson says as they go back into the house after training to guzzle down about a million gallons of water apiece.  “Are we telling Danny or what?”

All eyes go to Derek whose eyes go to Stiles. “I still need to talk to Stiles,” he replies, “We’ll decide tonight and let you know.”

Stiles manages to keep his mouth from falling open in surprise, but only just. 

“Can you drop Isaac and Scott off on your way home?” Derek asks Jackson.

"Yeah, sure.” 

“Shotgun!” Scott calls.

“Challenge!” Isaac replies grabbing his bag and sprinting toward the truck with Scott hot on his heels.

Jackson chases after them yelling, “I swear to god if you do anything to mess up that truck I will _end_ you both!”

“So what’re you thinking?” Stiles asks as the truck engine starts and the others pull off.  “It seems like he fits in, right? Pack potential?”

“I think he’d be good in the pack.”

“Awesome,” Stiles says with a smile.  “So we’re agreeing on this?”

“Apparently.”

"What about the bite?” Stiles asks.

“What do you think?”

“I think,” Stiles pauses to consider a moment. “I think it’s his choice to make. I don’t see an issue with him taking the bite, but I don’t think you should offer for a couple weeks so we don’t throw too much at him at once. I already knew about everything, and I still kinda freaked when you asked me.”

Derek nods his agreement.  “Do you want to talk to Jackson, or should I?”

“You can tell him,” Stiles replies with a shrug.

 “I’m going to tell him to have you or Lydia to be around when he tells Danny.”

“Human backup in case he has a momentary meltdown after he sees Jackson shift?”

“Yes.”

“Solid plan.”

There’s only a beat or two of silence before Derek moves on to say, “School starts back for you guys next week. Back to shorter afternoon practices like last spring?”

Stiles can hear the slight question in the statement, asking for his input.

“Yeah, it worked then.  We’ll keep it regular so everyone can try to plan out work schedules and stuff.” He feels the need to keep this conversation going so he adds,  “We’ve been hitting heavy on the hand-to-hand lately.  You keeping to that when we change?”

“I figured we’d go back to alternating hand-to-hand and conditioning,” Derek replies.  “And you’ll have research days with Danny—and Lydia too if you can convince her.  Can you keep working with Deaton in between training like you have been?”

“Yeah, I can.”  The silence grows between them.  Stiles’ patience runs out and he can’t help asking, “Is something—I mean I’m not complaining exactly—I’m just—Is there a reason you’re running all this by me? Is something up? Because we’ve barely talked to each other all week…”

“You said make discussion a more viable option.  This is me making discussion a more viable option,” Derek responds, as though that should be clear. 

“Oh, right. Yeah. Good,” Stiles says somewhat awkwardly, because this kind of simple talking—running plans by each other and Derek treating Stiles’ reply to a question like it matters—this is exactly what Stiles wanted to happen. He just hadn’t expected it to actually happen so quickly.

“And I don’t think you’re some irresponsible kid,” Derek adds.

“Huh?” Stiles replies, more than a little thrown off, and then realizes, “Scott talked to you?”

“Scott talked to Isaac,” Derek explains with a shrug, “Isaac mentioned it to me.”

_Why are half the conversations in this pack a game of telephone?_

"Oh, I—I just meant—I know I joke a lot, but it doesn’t mean I don’t take things seriously.  You don’t have to lecture me like I’ve ten years old.  I already understand being second is a big deal and protecting the pack is important.”

"I know.”

“You do?”      

“Stiles, which part of bleeding out on the warehouse floor mumbling ‘the pack needs an alpha’ don’t you remember? It sent a pretty clear message.”

“There’s quite a lot of that I don’t remember actually,” Stiles quips.

Derek glares at him. “That’s not funny.”

“Sorry.”

           

****************************************************************************************************************************************************

           

“I give you shit,” Derek admits, “but it’s not just because I think you’re not taking it seriously.  That’s not the issue. If I didn’t think you could be a good second, I wouldn’t let you be second.”

“What happened to the conversation in the hospital? The whole you’re-not-letting-me-I-earned-the-spot thing?”

“You did earn the spot, but it’s still my pack.  I’d be trying to get you to step down and getting one of the others to step up and take the spot from you. I wouldn’t just put up with up with it.”

“So then why the hell do you still treat me like an annoying little kid half the time?” Stiles asks, pent-up exasperation showing through; things he didn’t say last week when he set his jaw and huffed, _Yeah we’re good for now._

 “Isaac tells you I hate you thinking I’m a kid, and you bring it up in a legitimate conversation.  If it had been me—who’s supposed to be the fucking second— who brought  it up, you’d have just told me to shut up; we’d have been arguing about it in ten seconds flat.”

Stiles makes a good point, and Derek knows it.  Stiles gets under his skin, and he honestly can’t figure out _why_ it swings from fine to fighting so quickly so often.  Half the time he’s not even sure how they get started arguing, but, once they’re in the middle of it, neither is willing to back down.  The arguing isn’t really the issue though; he’s pretty sure they’re never really going to stop arguing.  The issue is Stiles feeling like a kid when he should feel the strength that comes with being second to an alpha.

Apparently Stiles agrees because he adds, “I can’t ever get a read on what the hell is going through your head. You remind me how fucking important being second is; you ask me to do stuff; and then you end up pissed at me? A couple weeks ago it seemed like we were really getting the hang of the whole alpha/second dynamic duo thing; then with this Danny stuff you’re bitching me out for not taking enough responsibility with protecting pack—not _explaining_ why having Danny around without mentioning it to you is a bad idea, straight up _bitching_ at me—which was frustrating enough, but then you’re going to add in there that I’m potentially going to put the pack at risk repeatedly because I don’t think things through?

It’s not all impulse, and you know that.  Maybe I’m quick to act on ideas, but they’re not shots in the dark.  I _am_ thinking about it; we just don’t think about stuff in the same way all the time, and I don’t see that changing.  End of the day, you either you trust me, or you don’t, and, if you don’t, this is never going to work.”

It’s not that Derek _doesn’t_ trust Stiles. Stiles has given a lot for this pack—for Derek—but he’s right to say they don’t think about things in the same way all the time.  Stiles doesn’t—he can’t—understand the world in the same way Derek does. Stiles knows loss, but not like Derek. Derek’s survived the kind of loss that guts you completely, that leaves nothing but a husk, and he knows exactly how hard you have to fight to come back from that— _if_ you come back from that and don’t end up like Peter—and he’s still struggling to suppress the terror that accompanies building anything back, because the harsh filter through which Derek’s viewed the world ever since the fire never lets him lose sight of the reality that the more he has, the more can be taken away.

He does genuinely think Stiles is a good second, but Stiles is also naïve in a lot of ways. Stiles’ decisions are governed by what he imagines losing the pack would be like; Derek already knows.  Stiles will never comprehend on the same level as Derek does just how important the responsibility of protecting the pack is, and that’s why Derek maybe gives Stiles too hard a time sometimes.  There’s no way Derek can really make Stiles understand just how devastating losing everything really is; all he can do is attempt to drill it into Stiles’ head that protecting the pack is an all-consuming job, one that should be engrained in the thought process for _every_ decision from adding pack members to deciding which dining room table they should buy. 

Since fighting the alphas, anything Stiles has done hastily without Derek’s input was just a new idea at training or a quick swap of bedrooms between the betas or an amendment to the location or time of pack dinners.  Derek could let control of those things go without too much unease, but this kind of decision, the choice to let someone get close to the pack, isn’t a thing to be taken lightly. It’s another lesson Derek learned the hard way, another lesson he can’t make Stiles understand on the same level Derek does.  

“So _do_ you even trust me as a second?” Stiles asks pushing Derek to respond to the question that’s been hanging between them for several seconds now.

“Yes.”

Stiles’ face looks pained for just a moment. “Lie,” he calls with a wry smile.  “That’s one I’m not gonna let slide, dude.”

There’s a million ways to start trying to explain it, but Derek’s never going to get it out coherently enough.  Stiles will still insist he can get to Derek’s level of concern—or that Derek’s way of thinking is too extreme.  There are parts of it that Stiles can’t understand not only because he doesn’t have Derek’s experiences but also because Derek won’t—can’t—tell him the whole truth of what happened with Kate. 

In the end, all he offers by way of excuse is, “I want to.”

There’s no lie to be heard in the statement.  Stiles opens and closes his mouth a few times, seemingly trying to figure out how to respond.    The silence between them isn’t filled with the normal annoyed or angry tension.  This is the tension that comes with unshared secrets; it’s written all over Stiles’ face that he’s perfectly aware there are other things that could still be said—an explanation Derek’s holding back—and he’s trying to decide if he’s going to push to hear it or not. 

He must decide now isn’t the time for it and finally settles for responding with, “Okay.”

“Okay?” Derek repeats, not entirely believing Stiles is willing to let the conversation end without more elaboration.

“Six months ago at the school the answer was outright ‘no.’ So I guess this is—progress? Right?”

 “Guess so.”

“We’ll just—we’ll work on it,” Stiles says firmly.  “ _Both_ of us.”

“Yeah.”  Derek agrees, not pointing out that he doesn’t have any idea _how_ to work on it.

Stiles’ phone rings—the ringtone for his dad which is also the theme song from COPS because Stiles thinks he’s so damn funny—shattering the feeling of intensity surrounding the conversation.

“Sorry,” Stiles says as he answers it hastily.  “Hey, Dad.”

“Hey, kiddo.  I’m gonna hit the grocery store on the way home from work. You want spaghetti or meatloaf for supper?” Derek hears from the other end of the line.

“Why do you even still ask me that?” Stiles wants to know.  “In no realm will I ever voluntarily vote for your meatloaf.”

“There is _nothing_ wrong with my meatloaf.”

“Dad, I’m kind of in the middle of something.  Can we just have spaghetti please?”

“Yeah, I’ll see you at home. Love ya.”

“See ya. Love you too,” Stiles replies, hanging up the phone.

He looks back to Derek who has no interest in returning to the serious conversation. 

Instead Derek says, “You should get home.  I’ll talk to Jackson and have him call you if he needs backup.”

“Yeah, okay.  Tell him he can crash my house to tell Danny if he wants—convenience of a parent who already knows and all.”

“Right.”

“Pack dinner here on Thursday?”

“Six thirty,” Derek confirms.

“It’s Isaac’s turn to cook, so if you could give him the card to go shopping tomorrow.”

“Sure.”

“See ya later then.”

“Yeah.”

Stiles goes out to his Jeep, cranks the radio up loud, and heads off down the driveway.  Derek goes to the den and puts on the TV for background noise before returning to the kitchen to heat something up for dinner.  He’ll give Jackson enough time to get home before he calls him.  He gets a text from Isaac as he plops down on the sofa to eat.

He opens the message to read, “So I’m guessing that went well?”

He gets the mental image of Scott and Isaac sitting in Jackson’s truck on the drive home, honing in on the pack bond like it’s a radio signal to try and gauge how things went.  Jackson’s probably been insisting on updates, they’ve probably been shushing him like it’s something they can actually hear.  The idea of it makes Derek smile.

“Yeah,” Derek texts back. 

_We’re good. For now._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so I know I ended it before actually writing the scene where they tell Danny. Hope no one's too disappointed. I do have a headcanon for it, though. It's something that may show up as a one-shot in the Family Business Excerpts eventually, or maybe I'll come back and tack it on here. Either way, don't hold your breath for it I guess I'm saying? If you're just dying to know you can shoot me a message on tumblr or something (packdontendwithblood)
> 
> Hope you enjoyed Part 2! Thank you so much for reading, and special thanks to those who've commented :) 
> 
> Part 3 is in the works, but I'm not making any promises on delivery times; As with this one, I'm not going to start posting until I've got a full draft of the whole work.

**Author's Note:**

> A few things to say regarding the general progression of the series:
> 
> 1) The Winchesters will be back, but not until Part 4.
> 
> 2) I can only go so many directions and explore so many things while still keeping myself on track here in the main progression of things. However, I occasionally write head canon bits and character development stuff that I quite like. If it doesn't fit in with where I am in the story here, it'll show up over in The Family Business Excerpts bit I started.
> 
> 3) Last but not least, I really appreciated all the feedback for Part 1!!! Keep it coming, and don't be shy! This bit isn't beta-ed because I'm far too impatient for my own good. :/ All remaining mistakes are my own.
> 
> Thanks so much for reading!! 
> 
> If you're ever in the neighborhood, drop by packdontendwithblood,tumblr.com and say hi :)


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